Doctor Who: Parallax - Counting Stars
by Montana
Summary: EPISODE II: Rose and The Doctor are united once more; off to take on the universe – starting with Florence in the 1600s. The "Father of Modern Physics," having been found suspect of heresy, is under house arrest. During those final years of his life, he will complete one of his most important works, but something is out to stop him. Nine/Rose, AU/AR
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I'm sure at this point, addressing the issue seems redundant, but – YES THE STORY CONTINUES. I said I would be writing "episodes". Right there in the description for the first episode, I said so. When I ended the first episode, I even said "this is the end of the first episode." 'First' is a meaningless word unless it's followed up by, at minimum, a 'second.'

As Conan says "Keep cool, my babies." The notion I had was writing my version of a sort of "spin off" series. So, yes, there will be more adventures, and yes nine is sticking around. Frankly, I'm glad there are others out there who're glad about that.

More to the point, I'm not going to write over 20,000 words defying the Canon and giving Rose back her original Doctor only to drop it there. Before things get fun? Are you shitting me?!

And so, here's Episode II (and much better than Star Wars Episode II as that shmuck Hayden Christiansen is nowhere in sight).

* * *

"That's just brilliant, that is," Rose beamed as she held up her right hand and wiggled her fingers in front of her face.

"Pins," The Doctor scoffed, "Titanium pins? It's just barbaric." It was much the same sentiment the nurses had expressed. When Rose had awoken on the TARDIS, she'd been more than a little disoriented. Between the blood loss, sleep deprivation, and adrenaline hangover, she initially thought it had all been a bizarre, opioid-induced dream. However, the sudden, jarring lurch of the TARDIS landing had knocked her off the jump seat and assured her she was very much awake. She' was also sore from head to toe, a condition The Doctor meant to remedy.

He'd landed them, though roughly, in London near the beginning of the 31st century. Late enough, The Doctor explained, to care for her wounds "properly," but early enough to not be astounded by her existence during the customary genetic cataloguing. Rose had been more than a little disconcerted with the notion of her DNA being catalogued in any fashion, but as she sat on the gurney in her pin-stripe hospital gown, fully mended and feeling like she was ready to run a marathon, maybe even three or four of them back-to-back, all doubts on the matter were gone.

"Did we have to come here, though? I've seen you – I mean, the other Doctor mended people in the TARDIS infirmary plenty of times."

"S'those blasted pins," his arms were crossed, "There's a lot I can do, a lot the TARDIS can do, but I'd have done more damage tryin' to take those pins out than if you'd just slapped a band-aid on it after you broke it and called it a day."

"Either way, it's brilliant."

"Feeling better, then?" he grinned, clearly quite pleased with himself.

"Much," she hopped down off the gurney in demonstration and headed for the wall of honeycomb-shaped aluminum cubbies where patients' personal effects were stored. The Doctor followed her with his eyes a moment before quickly looking away.

"Oi! Mind the gap," he chided, turning away from her and noticing several other patients on the ward leaning forward on their gurneys to get a better look. The older gentleman in Dock 7 was wearing a particularly lecherous smile, at least until The Doctor stepped between him and herself and gave him the intergalactic hand signal for 'I can see you, asshole.' Rose stopped a moment, confused, then hastily grabbed the back of her paper gown and held the flaps closed.

"One thousand years of medical advancement, but they still have the paper gowns. Who's barbaric, now?"

"It's a relative term," The Doctor dismissed, too busy glaring down any more potential gawkers. Rose grabbed her belongings and stepped behind the divider screen to get dressed.

"Oh, good, you grabbed fresh clothes, thank you." then, a labored pause, "you really thought these trousers and this top went together?" The Doctor rolled his eyes and turned around, now that his companion was safely behind the screen.

"How should I know?

"No, I know, I'm sorry. It was thoughtful, and I know style isn't really your – thing."

"What's wrong with this jumper?" he asked incredulously, and Rose choked on a startled laugh, her heart having leapt up to obscure her throat. "Besides," he continued, "The amount of – stuff – you managed to fit in that bag is astounding."

"This from the alien with dimensional pockets."

"They have limits. Your rucksack, evidently, does not," he surmised. Rose stepped out from behind the screen, looking far more at-home in her faded pink Chucks, a pair of charcoal gray cargo pants and her nicest white oxford blouse.

"You know, now that I have it on, it's really not that bad," she observed, pursing her lips.

"So, all that fussin' for nothin'. Typical apes," he offered his arm and she took it with an easy smile, though the familiarity of it all was a bit jarring.

"Well," she hedged as they strolled easily out of the ward, "it never occurred to me to pair bespoke linen with tactical gear."

"Visionary, I am." They walked past the nurse's station. It was humming with activity and manned by humans as well as three different species of alien that she could see. One looked very much human aside from being two feet taller than average and possessing a third eye directly between the other two. Two nurses looked very much like the blue-skinned staff of Platform One, and still another had distinctly reptilian features and appeared to be covered in luminescent green scales

"So, a thousand years into my future, we've not only made contact with aliens, it looks like we live together and work together."

"Indeed. Brought you out of the stone ages, technologically speaking. Why do you think I brought you here?"

"Bit harsh on us stupid apes," she poked him in the ribs with her elbow, "Shouldn't we, I dunno, sign out or something?"

"Nah, they'll figure it out." He reached over and unsnapped the aluminum admission bracelet from her left hand and tossed it into a receptacle as they passed.

"Hey, I was gonna keep that, you know," The Doctor stopped and looked at her, a mix of condescension and mirth visible on his face.

"What, you don't have enough of them?" he asked, walking back to the bin, taking the lid off and fishing out her bracelet.

"It's a souvenier," she shrugged, "And just how much of my bag did you rifle through, anyway?"

* * *

"So, where to?" asked The Doctor as he bounded around the control console. Rose leaned back against one of the foam pads duck-taped around the railing.

"Impress me," she shrugged, crossing her arms and assuming her best air of superiority. She wasn't much good at it. All the same, The Doctor stopped in his tracks to look at her, and a smile of smug determination came to his lips.

"All right, then," he started fiddling frantically with the controls.

"Year Five Billion?" she queried. He stopped in his tracks, looking very much like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Already been done, then?" he asked, standing upright, away from the controls as the ship drifted into the Vortex.

"Yeah, sorry." She wrinkled her nose in mock sympathy, "You're free to try again,"

"Any other adventures I should know about?"

"Sorry, that's cheatin'," she grinned, "You'll have to figure it out, for now. Trial and error." The look he gave her was a little mutinous, but he returned to his work without a retort. Rose sat back and watched him. She was still utterly astounded to see his face again. As much as she'd loved The Doctor, loved the eternally cheerful face and vibrant personality she'd been forced to leave behind, she'd never quite gotten over this one. The regeneration had been so sudden, so unexpected. She had felt like so much was left undone. To that end, the words he'd spoken near the end had bubbled up in her mind in those all-to-frequent moments when she'd not been quite sure she could, or should, take the new Doctor seriously.

_I was going to take you so many places…_

_Not like this, not with this daft old face…_

She'd missed that "daft" old face; that noble, if wounded, mind. She'd mourned his loss long before she'd been ripped out of her own universe and stranded here. Now, to see him again, so much the same Doctor who vacillated wildly between his guarded nature and his manic determination to shake everything up, to salvage what good was left in the universe in an effort to salvage himself. She'd seen it all, gazing unabashedly into those gray eyes in that cell in Cardiff. Some experiences had changed with the absence of a companion, but The Doctor was still there, and still secretly ached for redemption despite his doubts.

"There," The Doctor announced, jarring her from her revelry, "Naples, 1860" Rose's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She was about to point out that had also been done, but held off. That's where her Doctor had been aiming on her second outing, but he'd landed them in Cardiff in 1869. Technically, she still hadn't made it to Naples in 1860.

"Right, brilliant." She said, pushing away from the banister, "Now, wardrobe? Same place?"

"Probably," The Doctor shrugged, "Go find out." If she was going to be vague and withholding, so was he. For her part, Rose didn't seem to mind one bit and dashed off in search of clothing that wouldn't get her tied to a stake with kindling stacked about her feet.

* * *

Rose peaked her head out the TARDIS door. It wasn't night, it wasn't snowing, and it didn't smell "Welsh." It was old, but she wasn't versed enough in architecture to make any snap decisions. They'd landed in a narrow alleyway paved with rough, pale bricks, tucked in the shadows between two multi-story buildings. She could surmise, at least, that they weren't in the Stone Age. She stepped out onto the paving bricks, three layers of skirts swishing around her, and The Doctor followed her, locking the TARDIS behind him. Rose tilted her head up, turning a circle or two, and The Doctor couldn't help but admire the genuine joy on her face.

"Impressed?" he beamed, leaning against the TARDIS, his arms crossed.

"Always," Rose breathed, without thinking to temper her response. She shook off her distractions and offered her hand, "Shall we?" The Doctor crooked his arm around hers and they started off down the alleyway. Not far off, they could see a bustling thoroughfare, and as they stepped out from the shadows into the sunshine, The Doctor stopped short.

"This isn't right," he commented. He looked up and down the square, his brow knit in confusion.

"When is it ever?" Rose shrugged.

"That's Il Duomo. This isn't Naples."

"I don't care." The sun was bright, there were pigeons crowding the large open square that lay before a rather impressive-looking domed Cathedral, and the tower bells had just begun to ring.

"It's Florence," The Doctor spoke over the din.

"Close enough," Rose dismissed, but The Doctor started across the square, taking her along, until they'd reached the gorgeous domed building. There was a notice posted to the great wooden doors of the cathedral, and The Doctor studied it intently while Rose stared up at the towering stone edifice in awe. Finally, he stepped back.

"It's 1634," he stated. Rose tore her attention from the cathedral and looked up at him with amazement. He was about to ask her why _that_ shocked her, of all things, when her lips started trembling with her efforts to contain herself and she burst out laughing.

* * *

**Footnote:** Yes, it's "duck" tape, not "duct" tape. Though "duct" tape used on heating ducts does now exist, the original product wasn't usable for such a purpose as the heat caused the tape to dry out and fail (or, in some variations, burn up and produce a toxic gas). The original tape was constructed using lengths of "duck cloth." Between that and the water-resistant plastic coating that was later added to help keep moisture out of ammunition boxes, soldiers started referring to it as "duck tape."

So, chances are, that silver tape in your cupboard, the stuff you use to confound all those who try to open Christmas presents from you and to stop the kids from screaming, is most like "duck" tape and not "duct" tape. In fact, it's likely branded "Duck Tape™."

End of lesson. As you were.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I forgot to mention it in the previous chapter, but I own none of the Doctor Who characters.

**LadaHathaway: **I kinda felt I needed to post it right away, if only for all the confusion about the first episode ending and many people thinking that was it. And I very much hope my adventures are worth it. I know why so many avoid it because it's not easy. But what are any of us writing here for if not the challenge? **TK: **I absolutely agree, Rose with Ten felt very much like puppy love. Fun and flirty with all the lovely butterflies in the stomach, but ultimately unsustainable. Her connection with Nine was much more solid, but at nineteen I don't think she was ready for that. She might have been, some day, but he got taken away from her. In any case, so glad you're loving it! **Royslady:** You can fix anything with duck tape and/or a big enough hammer. **Jeni27: **I'm glad you like it, and thanks so much for the feedback! Their banter is such a strong part of the show, and I'm glad to know I'm hitting my target. Cheers!

**On the matter of the chicken:** My notion is that it was indeed the same chicken. I think, when The Doctor got arrested and dropped the hen, the TARDIS coaxed it back and hid it away so she could use it again. If she can translate billions of languages in real-time, she can certainly mind-control a chicken. Additionally, I'm reasonably sure it was the earlier version of the chicken (the one he was holding when he got arrested) and not the later version (the one he schlepped all the way back to the mansion to let loose and make sure Mickey's men saw him) because if the later version of the chicken was the one that ended up back in the TARDIS it would create some kind of bizarre, perpetual poultry paradox.

* * *

"Care to explain, now, why this is so funny?" The Doctor was torn between good humor and genuine irritation. On the one hand, she was so very open and quick to laugh, and he found it contagious despite his best efforts. On the other, she _had_ recently made a crack about his poor driving. Or, rather, his other self's poor driving. They were seated on the steps of the Basilica di Santa Maria Del Flore and had been for several minutes after Rose's peals of laughter had rendered her unable to stand on her own. She seemed to have finally caught her breath.

"Well, you see, the first place The Doctor took me was the year 5.5/Apple/26 to watch the earth be destroyed."

"Always a classic. Go on."

"Well, after that, he wanted to take me to the past, and he was aimin' for Naples in 1860."

"Ah."

"We ended up in Cardiff in 1869."

"Right."

"I mean, the date was close, but completely the wrong country."

"Yes, I get it."

"Now, we're in the correct country, but we're two centuries off."

"Yes, thank you. You've summarized my ineptitude in two separate universes quite well."

"I'm just sayin'. S'good thing you went with 'The Doctor' instead of 'The Navigator.'" Rose grinned at her own cleverness, her tongue pressed between her teeth. The Doctor shook his head and rose to his feet, offering her a hand up.

"Right, then. Off we go. More walking, less talking." He prodded with his sardonic grin. Rose took his hand and got to her feet, brushing out her skirts. Arm-in-arm, they began walking through the piazza with no particular destination.

"Just be embarrassing, that. If you went by 'The Navigator,' I mean." Rose mused after a few steps. The Doctor shook his head in exasperation.

"I'm not past leavin' you at a convent. That whole bit about poverty, chastity, and obedience certainly wouldn't hurt."

"Oh, Doctor, at least two of those ships have sailed. Probably made it to the Cape by now."

* * *

"Where are we?" Rose asked, admiring the simple villa tucked up in the hills just outside Florence. It had a white stucco exterior with a red tile roof and overlooked rolling fields that had just recently been tilled. They'd walked around Florence for some time, The Doctor expounding on when and where they were. Then, just as they were getting away from the city center, The Doctor had stopped abruptly in the middle of a sentence, looked up into the sparsely populated hills that lay south of the city proper, and started running. Luckily, she'd been wearing her Converse as opposed to the torture devices known as footwear in the 17th century.

"Where are we?" he repeated, fairly humming with enthusiasm, "We're standin' in front of the house of one of the greatest minds in human history."

"Leonardo da Vinci?"

"No."

"Michelangelo?"

"Sorry, guess again,"

"Pavarotti"

"Now, you're not even trying."

"Sorry, I ran out of Italians," she smirked. It was delightful, seeing him so keyed up.

"Galileo!" he exclaimed, opening his arms wide as if exalting his joy to the entire universe, "Galileo Galilei! The Father of Modern Physics, of Modern Science, really. He's under house arrest by now, of course."

"What for?"

"Suspicion of heresy, what else?" The Doctor said dismissively. Then, seeing the lack of comprehension on Rose's face, he continued, "You do know who Galileo is, right?"

"Of course I know who he is!" she defended, then, more humbly, "Sort of. He's the one with the telescopes, yeah? Wait, he wasn't – he wasn't peepin' on the neighbors, was he?"

"The refracting telescope is only part of the story," he declined to dignify her voyeurism theory with a response, "More importantly, he ran afoul of the Pope by defending the theory of heliocentrism."

"Oh!" Rose suddenly caught on to The Doctor's enthusiasm, "he's the one who said something under his breath when they sentenced him. What was it? 'But it moves,' or something, yeah?"

"'And yet it moves,'" he corrected, but he looked a bit proud, "Figures you'd remember the mischievous bits. Though it's only a rumor I'm afraid. No historical proof whatsoever. Wait, I've got it!"

"What?"

"Rome!" he exclaimed, "We get back in the TARDIS, and we go to Rome in June of 1633. We can sneak into the inquisition, find out for sure."

"Or end up in, I don't know, Bangladesh in 1956."

"Bangladesh didn't exist in 1956." The Doctor pointed out, crossing his arms and favoring her with that smug grin.

"That really only furthers my point."

"Did you know this property adjoins that of a monastery?"

"Nuns don't scare me," she grinned back at him. The Doctor might have had something clever in response, but just at that moment a distinctly feminine scream ripped through the serene country air, originating from inside the house. Rose and The Doctor both glanced at the villa, then looked back at each other and neither could keep a smile from tugging at their lips.

"Fantastic!" The Doctor exclaimed, and he rushed to the door. When he found it locked, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and they rushed inside only to come face-to-face with a pair of pike-wielding Swiss Guards. The Doctor and Rose both stopped short, and put their hands up. The Doctor was wearing his usual manic grin while Rose remained more circumspect. The two men regarded them warily, and as Rose looked over their red, yellow, and blue striped uniforms with the MC Hammer legs and the white frill collars, she struggled to suppress a giggle.

"Who dares enter?" the older of the two demanded, "This estate is under Papal authority."

"'Authority,' yes, and such a fine authority, that. But, you see, I'm The Doctor, and, well," The Doctor glanced past the guards and up the stairs to where a woman stood in full habit, wringing her stained white apron in her hands, "You rang."

"No one has been called," the guard insisted, pushing the tip of the Pike closer to The Doctor's face, and he dropped the smile, keeping his hands raised.

"Just the same, I'm here. I can help."

"And who's this?" the younger guard finally spoke. He was eighteen if he was a day and the faint whisper of what could almost be called a mustache graced his lips.

"I'm Rose…" she began.

"This is my assistant," The Doctor cut in, shooting her a warning glance. She furrowed her brow at him, not accustomed to being interrupted, "We heard the scream, we're just here to help."

"Let them in," the woman at the top of the stairs finally spoke, her voice choked with tears, "If he's a doctor, for God's sake, let them in." The elder guard hesitated, still clearly suspicious of the two intruders. Finally, he slowly lowered his weapon and the younger followed suit.

"Upstairs, then. Don't try anything," it was a simple warning, but effective. Rose no longer found their attire quite so amusing. The two of them ascended the stairs calmly, not wanting to give the guards any reason to pursue them.

"What was that about?" Rose whispered at him.

"What was what?"

"Cutting in like that. I can speak for myself, thank you," she hissed, a bit more defensively than she intended.

"Not with this lot," he said softly, "The Papacy during this time is none too fond of women in general, especially when they're speakin' for themselves. S'better if you let me do most of the talkin'." He explained.

"All right, fine." Rose sighed, then "I bet you're just loving this, aren't you?" The Doctor shot her a quick smile and she shook her head at him. They reached the top, where the woman awaited them. She was terribly pale and the depth of concern on her face was striking.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, clearly sensible of her distress, "I'm The Doctor, this is my assistant, Rose."

"Sister Maria Celeste," she nodded her head, "I'm so glad you're here. It's my – it's the master of the house."

"Signor Galilei?" The Doctor calrified, growing concerned.

"Yes," she nodded, "he's in the sun room. This way." The sister led them through the back of the house, clearly trying to hurry while maintaining her composure and propriety. Rose and The Doctor followed without a word. When they reached the sun room, richly appointed and aptly named for its expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows, they saw a man of middling age slumped over the table. The Doctor rushed to him, immediately checking for a pulse.

"He's alive," The Doctor looked up at Rose, gray blue eyes wide with relief, "We need to lay him out. I'll get under his shoulders, you pull out the chair." Rose nodded and did as he asked. Once laid out on the fine Persian rug, it was easy to see a pallid cast to his skin, and his lips bore the faintest tinge of blue. "He's not getting much air," The Doctor pulled off the restrictive white collar he wore, "Sister, I need a bowl of water and a cloth." He watched as Maria Celeste left the room, then pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began to scan the unconscious man.

Rose was knelt down on the opposite side, holding Signor Galelei's hand and looking upon his face in wonder. She'd seen a portrait of him in one of her textbooks, a pencil drawing. He was a bit older, now, but the face was very much the same and the beard hardly changed at all. The skin beneath her fingers was unnervingly cool, and she began massaging the palm and fingers, hoping to stimulate the circulation.

"Oh, this is strange." The Doctor looked up at her and pocketed his sonic before the Sister could return.

"What is?" Rose asked, her warm hazel eyes brimming with genuine concern.

"Helium," The Doctor's eyebrows lifted in surprise as he said it, "The man's got helium poisoning." Just then, they heard the footsteps of the Sister returning from the kitchen.

"Can you do anything?" Rose whispered, leaning across Galileo's prone form.

"Maybe," he said, then turned his attention to Maria Celeste, taking the proffered clay bowl from her hands, "Thank you. Sorry to be a bother, but could I also get a tea made. Ginger, if you have it. Maybe a touch of mint. He might be a bit nauseated when he comes to."

"You mean he's all right? He'll be all right, I mean?" the mix of fear and hope was plain on her face, and The Doctor smiled.

"I think so. Just make sure we've got that tea ready for him," he assured. The Sister nodded and headed back to the kitchens.

"Tea?" Rose asked, "Tea can fix Helium poisoning?"

"No, but he will be rather out of sorts when he comes to. Voice might be funny for a bit, try not to laugh." The Doctor sat back on his heels, closed his eyes and inhaled a long, deep breath. Longer, in fact, than Rose thought humanly possibly, until she reminded herself that he was not, in fact, human, and on the laundry list of weird shit she'd seen, this was incredibly mundane. After inhaling so deeply and holding his breath for what seemed like minutes, The Doctor opened his eyes, tilted Signor Galelei's head back, pinched off his nose, and affixed his mouth to Galileo's, exhaling. Rose watched as the man's chest rose. The Doctor pulled away, still holding his own breath, and closing the mouth of the unconscious genius, holding it shut for several counts before releasing the man's airways and pressing gently down on his chest. Air came rushing out, but there was no other response.

Once more, The Doctor breathed deep into Galileo's starving lungs, forced him to hold it for a several beats, and then released his airways and pressed down on his chest. He waited a beat, this time, but when there was still no response, not so much as a flicker of the eyelids, he knelt forward again. Just as he did, Signor's Galilei's eyes popped open and he bolted upright, his head colliding with The Doctor's who fell back, all the pent-up air rushing from his lungs. Unfortunately for Rose, The Doctor had been quite right about the nausea, as the poor man immediately vomited across the front of her gown.

Maria Celeste returned just then to see this mysterious "Doctor" sputtering and coughing on all fours and his "assistant" covered in vomit and patting Signor Galilei's back with a look of utter shock on her face. She stood for a moment, bewildered, holding a tray with the teapot and cups. Slowly, The Doctor recovered himself, though his eyes were watering from his efforts. He spotted Maria Celeste and smiled.

"There, all better!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I don't own any of the characters, places, or plots from Doctor Who. If I did, I'd keep them in jar on my windowsill with a twig and leaf to simulate their natural habitat.

**Royslady:** All good suggestions, you'll have to wait and see ;D **LadaHathaway:** Traveling with The Doctor requires 2 things: running shoes, and a slicker. **TK:** No, I agree, things would have been fantastic if Nine hadn't left, he was just forced to regenerate before she had a chance to grow up and appreciate what they had. And here's to amending that glaring oversight! :D **LittleLizzie:** Yeah, I think a lot of it comes down to people seeing what they want to see, one way or the other, and I think they wrote it that way. With cues that can be latched onto, or handily ignored. As far as the "changing his own timeline" paradox, there was that bit in "Father's Day" when he grudgingly gives Rose a second chance to be with her father, despite the fact he and she are already there, and she when runs out early, their previous versions just disappear. Granted, those Reaver things showed up, but in this story, he didn't change his timeline, so no Reavers. I suspect small things can be altered (with or without the Reavers, seeing as how he didn't automatically assume they'd be there) but not big things. As for alternate universe vs. parallel universe, my comprehension on the matter is that multiple, independent universes are "parallel", they exist simultaneously. Rose's universe didn't suddenly stop existing when she left it. Pete's universe exists parallel to hers and countless others. An "alternate" universe is more what a lot of writers do on FF. I took the story, starting at the point where she got marooned in the parallel universe, and created an alternate universe (or alternate reality) where I changed pretty much everything that happened from that point forward. I'm writing an "alternative" to the DW Canon, completely negating/ignoring their storyline from that point forward. Sooo… I guess that makes it an alternate version _of_ the parallel universe. That's not confusing at all. :S

* * *

"I swear, I still smell of it," Rose muttered, entering The Doctor's room and sniffing uncertainly under the collar of the habit Sister Maria Celeste had leant her. Rose wasn't wearing the wimple, but was still keenly aware of how very – nun-like – she looked. The Doctor, who'd been gazing out into the fields with his hands clasped behind his back, turned and immediately started laughing.

"It suits you," he chortled, approaching her.

"Shut it, you," she scolded, but couldn't help smiling just a little, "It's all she had. No other women living here, apparently." After Galileo's 'miraculous' recovery, he and Sister Maria Celeste had insisted they stay at the villa instead of returning to town. The Swiss Guard hadn't been too pleased by the notion, but in light of their charge's health scare, they agreed having a 'doctor' on site was a good idea. The good Sister had provided Rose with a change of clothes and a basin of warm water and a cloth to wash with. She was rather skeptical of its efficacy.

"No, there wouldn't be. Signor Galilei never married."

"Yeah?" Rose commented, crossing to sit on the edge of the bed, "He had the right of it. So, what do think's going on, then?"

"I've no idea," The Doctor admitted, sitting next to her, and he seemed more excited by that fact than frustrated, "Somehow, he inhaled a great deal of helium, pure helium, until it replaced nearly all the oxygen in his system."

"Well, he wasn't huffin' party balloons," Rose surmised.

"No, that he wasn't." The Doctor concurred, "S'just such a strange way to kill a man. Not to mention impossible, given the technology of the day."

"Sooo, you're sayin' whatever did this, it wasn't from around here?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, it wasn't," he smiled back and nudged her with his shoulder.

"Why is it always aliens?" she mused, leaning back and supporting herself with her hands.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, whenever The Doctor and I went back in time and we ran into trouble, it was never just normal conflicts in human history. It was always aliens."

"How long did you travel with him?" The Doctor asked, ignoring her question and turning to face her more directly.

"I dunno, it's hard to say. I mean, in my time, anyway. Time gets sort of… mixed up when you're traveling. I think it was a couple years, maybe a little less? When I got stuck here, we just sort of estimated how old I was and started keeping time from there."

"He – he never told you where you really stood?" The Doctor asked, and Rose's heart skipped a beat, her mind having immediately gone in another direction completely, "In time, I mean." He seemed more than a little disturbed at the notion.

"I never really asked. Didn't seem to matter much, at the time," she shrugged, just barely getting her mind on the right track and her voice under control.

"But, when he sent you here…"

"It was a bit hectic. There wasn't any time for that, and it wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind," she held her voice steady, tried to brush it off as nonchalantly as possibly, and prayed she'd succeeded.

"It was an accident," The Doctor concluded, his tone low and solemn.

"Yeah, yeah it was." Rose's voice caught a little. She conjured a small cough to cover it and changed the topic, "So, how did you resuscitate ol' Galileo back there?" The Doctor's keen gray eyes studied her a moment. She met his gaze as best she could, and finally he broke off.

"Superior physiology," he grinned, "With enough concentration I can force my respiratory system to produce oxygen instead of carbon dioxide. Not for long, mind, and it leaves a funny taste in my mouth, like burnt popcorn, but that's what I was breathing into 'im. Pure oxygen, that's why he shot up like that, and, well…" The Doctor nodded toward her new attire, and Rose smiled ruefully.

"You're the best, you are," she winced slightly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. If it makes you feel better, he head-butted me. Forehead still hurts a bit."

"Really?"

"No," he admitted, with slight cringe, "Superior…"

"Physiology," Rose finished, "Yeah, yeah. Well, s'not like I haven't been puked on before, and by far less distinguished individuals. Also been spat on. By the Moxx of Balhoon."

"What do you _do_ with your time?" he asked, feigning shock.

"Asked the 900 year-old alien who travels time and space in a 1950s Police Call Box." Rose grinned at him. The Doctor shook his head at her, but he was clearly trying to suppress a smile.

"You're a hazard, Rose Tyler," he pronounced, rising to his feet and offering his hand. It was the first time he'd used her full name, and hearing it spoken in that familiar Northern timbre gave her the slightest chill, but she took his hand and stood up. "But come on, I think I smell supper."

* * *

"Tell me, Signor Doctor," Galileo addressed, and Rose could see The Doctor's face twitch a little, but he declined to correct his host, "How is it you came to find yourself in Arcetri at such an opportune moment?" Rose had barely spoken a word so far, per The Doctor's advice, but while Galileo and Sister Maria Celeste had had their heads down in prayer before supper began, neither she nor The Doctor had fully complied, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from mouthing 'we're having supper with Galileo' across the table. His response had been a mute 'hush' to which she'd responded by grinning at him with her tongue between her teeth before sobering up.

"Oh, just in the neighborhood. Havin' a bit of a stroll," The Doctor shrugged.

"How remarkable," Signor Galilei mused. Rose couldn't quite decide whether he was truly paying attention or not. He seemed distracted, almost dreamy in his speech. She rather hoped the temporary oxygen deprivation hadn't addled his brain. Sister Maria Celeste suffered from no such affliction.

"Apparently he and his – assistant – were passing by when they heard me call out," the Sister's sharp brown eyes darted to Rose for emphasis, and she opened her mouth to protest, but The Doctor cut her off.

"Yes, it's a fantastic view of the city, and such a lovely day."

"Well, whatever your reasons," Galileo seemed to have regained his focus and cast a knowing glance at The Doctor, "I am most fortunate you happened to be near."

"Speakin' of," The Doctor addressed, cutting into the manicotti in front of him with vigor, "If you don't mind me askin', have you had episodes like that before?"

"No, not as such. The greatest complaint I've had is my eyesight. Gets worse every year."

"So, no faintin', no dizziness, shortness of breath?"

"No, nothing like. Not until this afternoon. I was relaxing in the sunroom reviewing notes from some of my previous research. I've been considering a new book, you see. Summarizing much of what I've been working toward all my life," Galileo explained with the unhurried ease of advanced age. The Doctor shot Rose a significant look from across the table, but she only raised an eyebrow, unsure what was so important.

"Then I started feeling a bit – giddy," Galileo continued, "Light-headed, like you say. The next thing I know I've come-to on the floor with you sittin' over me along with your," he paused and reached out a hand, patting Rose's where it rested on the table, "lovely companion." Rose looked, wide-eyed at The Doctor. He was trying his best not to laugh.

"That's – very kind, Signor," Rose offered, weakly. Maria Celeste was less amused.

"Behave yourself, fa- Signor Galilei," Rose picked up on the self-correction, but before she could process it further, the Sister training a disapproving gaze upon her, "No telling where this one's been."

"Hey!" Rose protested.

"Oi!" The Doctor exclaimed, simultaneously. "It's nothin' like that."

"It certainly isn't," she agreed, though the staunch conviction with which she said it made The Doctor glance at her a split second, an odd, sharp twinge striking at his very core.

"Don't be ridiculous," the Sister said, more matter-of-fact than derisive, "A doctor with a woman as his apprentice? I'm not stupid, nor blind," she gave the Doctor a pointed look with that final word, and he scrunched his nose in confusion, "Just know that nothing inappropriate in the eyes of the Lord will happen under this roof while I'm here."

"Pretty sure I can contain myself," Rose replied, scathingly.

"Nothing will ever happen," The Doctor added, sternly, "I can guarantee it."

* * *

After dinner, Rose retired to her room while The Doctor stayed behind to confer with their brilliant host. She'd been tempted to stick around herself, but the open disapproval of the dear Sister, combined with the ego-withering fact that she'd find herself easily lost listening to a man who'd lived and died three hundred years before she was born, convinced her that discretion was the better part of valor. She was suddenly reminded she never had bothered to take her A-levels. As soon as it became obvious the Dimension Canon would never work, she'd signed on as a field agent and gone haring off across the globe. What had made her happy all those years suddenly left her feeling inadequate.

Despite her open disdain for Rose, the Sister had left her a nightgown and pitcher and basin to allow her to wash up before bed. Rose gratefully took advantage, still feeling just the slightest bit unclean from earlier. The nightgown itself could generously be called "dowdy" with long, puffy sleeves, a high collar, and lace trimming at the hem, cuffs, and neck. It seemed a terribly itchy, impractical thing to wear to bed, but it was made of heavy, flannel-like material, and given the chill of the house she gave in and put it on.

Just as she was peeling back the blankets on the narrow bed, she heard the bedroom door behind her open, and she spun around.

"Doctor," she acknowledged, relieved, "I thought you were the Sister."

"What you doin'?" he asked, looking her up and down quizzically.

"Going to bed," Rose darted a look at the bed, thinking it rather obvious.

"What for?"

"Well," she said, setting her feet and crossing her arms, "It's this thing humans do, we call it sleep. It's sort of necessary for us to function properly."

"You slept seventeen hours straight, isn't that enough for a bit?"

"I did what?" she immediately dropped her arms and tilted an ear in his direction, as if not hearing him properly.

"Never mind that," he brushed it off, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him, "We need to have a bit of a poke about the house. Whatever tried to poison our good man, it had to have planted a relay devise nearby. As in, no more than a dozen yards."

"I slept for seventeen hours?" Rose attempted to clarify, "On the jump seat?"

"Please try to concentrate, Rose, we haven't got all night."

"No wonder I felt like hell wakin' up."

"Yes, bad spot to fall asleep. Now, can we please go?" The Doctor took her hand and headed for the door.

"Wait a minute, I'm in my nightgown."

"Yes, you are," The Doctor agreed, opening the door and peeking his head out, "Coast is clear. Come on, then?"

"What if Maria Celeste catches us?" Rose whispered as she pulled the door shut behind them. The hallway was dark but The Doctor retrieved a candle nestled in a brass carrier that he'd set on the table.

"I thought you weren't afraid of nuns," he pointed out leading her down the hallway.

"I'm not," she whispered defensively, "It's just that one doesn't care for me much, is all."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** The BBC owns all the characters, plots, etc. for Doctor Who.

Also, I'm going to be a bit… busy for the next couple weeks. I's a gettin' hitched. So, while I am pre-writing chapters so that I can just click and post on busy days, I may miss a posting or two, and I might not be super quick to answer PMs or type up responses to reviews. I'll do my best, and by early February things should settle back to normal.

Mad thanks to all my readers!

**Jeni27: **Let's just say, the "rest of forever" will be seen to in due time. ;) **LadaHathaway:** You're very welcome, it's those little moments that count. **Royslady:** Catholicism – Where church rank is denoted by a series of sillier and sillier hats **Katydidtoo:** Silly Doctor, Trix are for kids! **TK:** I suspect he's going to reach a point where his curiosity is just killing him and he has to start opening up. Quid pro quo and all that.

* * *

Rose and The Doctor wound their way through the darkened house, only the territory immediately around them illuminated by that lone candle. Finally, he brought them to the sunroom where they'd found Signor Galileh that afternoon. The curtains were drawn for the night, only a sliver of dim moonlight slicing between the panels.

"It has to be near here," The Doctor motioned around the room.

"Right," Rose said, now fully down to business, "What's it look like?"

"I'm not sure, exactly, but it'll make a very distinct, high-pitched humming noise. Not a lot of stuff in this time period makes noise like that. Come to think, you might not be able to hear it. Be more like a feeling," he set the candle on the table and turned about once to survey the room.

"Like when the telly's on mute in another room, but you somehow know it's on?"

"Yeah," The Doctor smiled, surprised, "Jus' like that."

"Right," Rose looked around the room. The shadows thrown by the candle danced in and around several shelves loaded haphazardly with leather-bound books and curio cabinets displaying fine china and knick-knacks. Rose crept toward one side while The Doctor went the other way. They slowly made their way around the nook, quiet as they could, keeping their ears perked for the slightest indication of a foreign resonance. The only thing Rose heard was the faint pop of her right knee as she knelt to put her ear nearer the bottom shelves of the bookcase.

Finally, they met up at the center of the large bank of windows that spanned the southern wall, unsuccessful. The Doctor was clearly displeased, arms crossed and scowling in thought. Finally, he looked up, gazing at the amber flicker as it played across the ceiling. He wondered if it might be on the roof. Rose just stared at the candle on the table for a moment, allowing the dancing flame to consume her concentration. Then, she thought she heard, or rather felt, something odd. Just as The Doctor had opened his mouth to suggest they open a window and climb out onto the roof, Rose, laid a hand on his arm, stilling his tongue.

"The table," she whispered, "What about under the table?" He glanced down at her, her attention fixed on the modest, round table. Unwittingly, he stole a moment, just a moment to watch her profile in the ever-shifting candlelight, so intent on her purpose. He thought, just for a second, how brilliant she was in more ways than one. He immediately pushed himself away from the notion.

"Let's have a look, then," he said, excited. Together, they pulled two of the chairs away, and The Doctor grabbed the candle as they ducked under the table. Sure enough, affixed to the underside of the table, was a device about the size of Rose's fist. It was some manner of metal, shaped like a spiral fan, each 'blade' perforated by perhaps a dozen tiny holes.

"Well, there's your problem," Rose commented, deadpan.

"I'm still charging them the full hour for labor," The Doctor reached up and pried gently at the gadget. When it remained stubbornly affixed, he dug his sonic out and tried a number of settings before the thing unlatched and fell gracefully into his waiting hand. He held it up in the dim light for both of them to see.

"What is it?" Rose asked, transfixed.

"A Remote Forcefield Generator," he said, "Orchitean make. It can be programmed to create a habitable atmosphere around a limited space. In this case, it was programmed to created a bubble of pure helium around our dear scientist."

"So… we're looking for an Or- Orc-" Rose tried.

"Orchitean," The Doctor repeated, "And, no. They just made the thing. Quiet species, hard working, rather fond of grapes. Red, that is, not green."

"Well, the green are rubbish," Rose concurred.

"Exactly. No, the Orchiteans had nothing to do with this. Someone merely used one of their devices to get rid of our resident genius."

"Right, then. Who do you-" Rose's line of questioning was cut short by the decidedly unfriendly sound of a throat being cleared. Slowly, she and The Doctor, still huddled under the table, peered into the darkness beyond the legs of the remaining chairs. They could just barely distinguish the outline of a distinct, dark robe at the extreme limits of the lone candle's illumination.

"Bugger," Rose cringed under her breath.

* * *

"What did I say about carrying on with your – ungodly – behavior in this house?" the Sister paced around Rose and The Doctor who both now sat at the table under which they'd been caught whispering to each other in the dark not two minutes prior. The lone candle they'd brought remained their only light as wimple-clad vengeance bore down upon them.

"Ah, see, about that," The Doctor began to explain in his usual chipper, if mildly condescending tone.

"What did I say?" Maria Celeste interrupted, stopping where she stood across the table from them and glaring them down.

"We weren't doin' anythin'- untoward," Rose borrowed the term Jackie had used. She'd had rather enough of being cowed by a nun who was barely older than herself, and she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. The effect of this show of indignant defiance was somewhat lessened by the antiquated ridiculousness of her attire.

"Really?" the Sister smiled, "A young woman in her nightgown, alone with a man, huddled together in a darkened room?"

"How can I be 'alone' and with someone at the same time?" Rose goaded.

"Rose…" The Doctor began.

"No," Rose cut back, sitting upright, "I'm not havin' this. From either of you. I'm done keepin' quiet."

"Young lady…" Maria Celeste moved toward her, and Rose stood up.

"What? Young lady, what? Listen, Sister," Rose paused a tic, recognizing the ludicrousness of what she'd said but tamping down her urge to chuckle and compromise the rather impressive head of steam she'd mustered, "He ain't the kind of Doctor you think he is, and I'm not his – his – _doxy_. And you know what, you should be damn glad of it. There's no one else who can help you. No one but us." The Doctor sat watching all this, thoroughly entertained, and torn between calling Rose off the dear Sister before she insulted her to the point where she would refuse to cooperate with them, or remaining a spectator. The latter won out.

"If this is the manner in which you operate, we've no need of your assistance," Maria Celeste wasn't one to be intimidated.

"Yeah? Someone tried to poison him. Rather elaborately, actually," Rose added that last more to herself than the Sister, "But it wasn't your usual poison. You have no idea the magnitude of what's goin' on, but we do. You need to trust us."

"Why should I? You're strangers, both of you. You just happened to show up at the right time. How do I know you didn't poison him?"

"Because I could have just let 'im die," The Doctor pointed out. Rose glanced at him, as if to say 'sure you could, tough guy', and as soon as she returned her attention to the mutinous nun, he realized that one little look meant rather a lot to him.

"Look, we're here to help. That's it. Whoever's trying to kill your father, Maria Celeste, we can stop it. It's up to you."

* * *

"I can believe she threw us out!" Rose kicked a loose pebble, her arms wrapped tight around her. It was early spring, and the nights were frosty. They were walking along a rutted path that led from Arcetri to Florence proper. They needed the TARDIS in order to trace the RFG's signal back to the source. With only a half-moon to light their way, she was relying heavily on The Doctor's insistence that he could see just fine.

"Well, you did call her out as Signor Galilei's daughter,"

"It slipped," she shrugged, "And besides, was I wrong?"

"Not at all," he said with a touch more enthusiasm than the subject warranted, and Rose settled herself in for a history lecture, "Virginia's her name, her birth name, that is. As I said before, Galileo never married, but he did carry on an extended affair that resulted in three children. For the life of me I can't remember their mother's name. Can't remember her sister's and brother's names, either. But I do know Virgina. Maria Celeste, that is. Being illegitimate, they'd have been unmarriageable, not without significant dowries. The church was the only option for the girls, and Virginia, she's remembered for her devotion to Signor Galilei. After his sentence was handed down, she campaigned for permission to carry out part of his penance on his behalf."

"What was the penance?" Rose asked, interested despite herself.

"He had to read the seven penitential psalms each week for three years."

"Did she get it? Permission, that is."

"She did, and she stayed at her father's side until the day she died."

"Wait, she dies before 'im?" Rose asked. The Doctor had to think a second.

"I believe so, yes."

"I feel a bit sorry for her, now," Rose chewed on her lip a second, "Still, doesn't everybody sort of know? I mean, proper or not, I can't imagine it's really that much of a secret. If the way rumor traveled around the Estates is anything to go by."

"No, it isn't," The Doctor agreed, "Still, it's terribly impolite to mention it out loud. Never mind pointing out to someone's face that they are, in fact, a bastard."

"Right, well, I just stepped in it, then, didn't I?"

"Well, up until that point, you were brilliant."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," The Doctor looked over at her, then, beaming. Rose couldn't help but smile to herself, turning her attention back to the rutted path.

"Still, though, she tossed me out in this bloody nightgown."

"Well, I doubt very much your dress was dry. Don't have clothes dryers just yet, and I don't think she wanted you struttin' about impersonatin' a nun."

"Not sure the habit would be that much an improvement." They continued on a ways in companionable silence. It was almost unnerving how dark and still it was. Even during her time as a field agent, traveling to some of the least developed parts of the world, societies across the globe had advanced to such a point where it was almost impossible to find a location completely absent of urban noise and light pollution. Here, though, there was a deep, rich peacefulness that was at once so fulfilling and so maddening to the part of her brain that had grown accustomed to near perpetual stimulation. Half her mind kept churning away while the other basked in the blissful reprieve.

"Why Helium?" she suddenly asked, not having meant to speak at all.

"It'll do the job," The Doctor shrugged.

"Yeah, but if you want someone dead, there must be a million ways of doin' it, and if you insist on suffocating them, there must be a dozen gases that would do the trick. So why Helium? Is it just easier to access? Does it mean something to the killer? What?" Rose rattled off rather quickly. For a moment, The Doctor didn't speak, his brow creased in thought.

"It is rather poetic," he finally said, stopping and looking down at her.

"How so?"

"The sun," The Doctor said, and when she didn't immediately catch on, he continued, "Galileo was punished for supporting the theory that the Earth revolves around the sun, not vice versa." For a moment the only information of any kind she could gather from this line of reasoning was a memory, old but astounding in its clarity, of a man who looked just like the one walking beside her, taking her hand and explaining to her that he could feel the rotation and orbit of her tiny little world.

"Helium!" she exclaimed, suddenly getting it, "The sun, it converts Hydrogen into Helium!"

"Right!"

"So…" Rose had suddenly lost the direction of his logic, "The sun's trying to kill 'im?" She knew that wasn't where he was going, but couldn't find an alternative endpoint.

"No, not so literal. Whoever tried to kill him, they've a touch of the dramatic, a sense of showmanship."

"Like the horse's head in 'The Godfather.'" Rose pointed out.

"Right, and the use of Helium suggests this whole mess is tied into his work," The Doctor had begun pacing and talking with his hands, "During the years of his house arrest, Galileo wrote what was probably the most important work of his lifetime, Discourses and Mathematical Demonstrations Relating to Two New Sciences. It was groundbreaking, pure mathematics. No one had attempted to create mathematical formulas for motion before. Isaac Newton credited Galileo for the underpinnings of his First Law of Motion. Rose, this book he writes, it changes _everything_."

"So, the question seems to be, why would someone want to cripple the course of human advancement?"

"Yes, it is," The Doctor had that manic grin and excited gleam in his eyes. He held out his hand; Rose took it and held on tight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note:** I'm BACK! _So_ sorry for the delay, my dears. I didn't expect things to get quite as crazy as they did. That said, here's a bonus apology posting before tomorrow's schedule posting. I do not own the characters from Doctor Who. More's the pity, because at least _I_ would share.

**LadaHathaway:** Is there any other kind?! **Royslady51:** I will avoid triteness whenever possible. I swear. **Guest:** I absolutely plan to. I have some 12 "Episodes" roughly mapped out at the moment. :D **Jeni27:** That's exactly the scene I was thinking of when I wrote it. **Kiera-sama:** Many apologies for the delay, but thanks so much for your support! Hope you enjoy! **TK:** Many thanks! It was… insane. Anywho, I'm ba-ack! **BelindaDuvessa**: Sorry for the delay, but I'm back in gear, and there will be another post tomorrow. I can also, hopefully catch up on some Fic reading, including yours. Thanks for all your patience! **GreeneeyesCutie:** I am so terribly honored. Truly, thank you. I remember the first book I ever read that made me stay up all night reading and I dragged myself to school the next day on 2 hours of sleep. It was The Count of Monte Cristo, and Dumas is still one of my very favorite authors. Back in the day I wrote other Fics in other movies/shows, but it was so long ago and they were very much in my amateur stage that I took them down. So, for right now, Doctor Who is my muse and I intend on following this rabbit hole as deep as it goes. **Animegrlsteph:** "Your wish is my command, but be careful what you wish for." :D

* * *

The piazza in front of Il Duomo was empty as Rose and The Doctor went sprinting through, and they found the alley where the TARDIS was hidden easily enough. Rose, despite her general fitness, was panting heavily by that point, and as she watched The Doctor unlock the door and push it open, hardly looking any the worse for wear, she rolled her eyes a bit. The pair rushed into the waiting TARDIS, and The Doctor made a bee-line for the console, fishing the RFG out of his pocket, while Rose locked the door behind them. By the time she made it up the ramp, he was already flitting about the controls, taking what appeared to her to be random cords and hooking them up to the gadget.

"So, what's next?" she asked.

"We follow the signal," he proclaimed, rather victoriously.

"Just make sure it doesn't melt," she walked past him, headed for the corridor that branched out into the rest of the ship, "I'm gonna change."

"You what? Rose, it'll only take a second."

"And I'm not chasing aliens around in a flannel nighty," she pointed out, waving a hand at him dismissively and disappearing down the corridor. The Doctor shook his head and returned to his work.

The room Rose had selected lay down a hallway that branched right off of the main passage. This decision hadn't been purposeful. When they'd returned to the TARDIS after their brief medical layover, she'd gathered up her things and gone in search of her new quarters. The first intersection led to the kitchen and media room in one direction, and the infirmary and library in another. The second intersection, however, held passenger births in both directions. When she'd reached the junction, her instinct had been to go left. Instead, she'd paused, gazing in the direction "her" room resided.

She'd remained that way for some time, unsure and puzzled by her own doubt. Without much thought or meaning, she'd turned right, instead. She'd found a small, modest room with an unusually comfy camp bed and a lamp made to look like a propane lantern. She'd smiled, and looked up at the walls and ceilings of her room, secreted inside that magnificent ship, and suspected _something_ had driven her. Her rucksack, haphazardly re-packed by The Doctor, had been tossed in a corner, and she'd returned to the deck. Now, Rose found herself once again pausing at that junction, only this time she recognized it for the crossroads it was.

"Her" room wasn't her room. Not here. She didn't know how different it might be, if anyone had occupied it before her, or whether it even existed in the same spot she recalled. The point, which the TARDIS had so artfully steered her toward, was that she was no longer the person she was when she first traveled with The Doctor, and she needed to start letting it go. Just as the Time Lord piloting this ship wasn't the Time Lord she knew, she was not the person her own Doctor remembered. She had a fresh path ahead of her, new experiences and new challenges, and she decided, as she turned right this time with a confident stride, she would grab on with both hands.

* * *

Rose had one leg in her trousers when the TARDIS lurched abruptly under her feet. She yelped in surprise and fell backward, barely catching herself with her hands. When things seemed to have settled down, she hastily tugged her pants on and clambered to her feet. As she spun around the modest room looking for her shoes, she heard the distant reproach of The Doctor urging her to hurry up. Rose grumbled some rather unflattering things under her breath, but managed to find her shoes, which she grabbed up and ran out of her room. The grating was more than a little uncomfortable under stocking feet, and she soon started hopping down the corridor as she pulled on first one shoe and then the other. They were still untied when she made it to the control room.

"Oi, glad you could make it," The Doctor commented, a bit tartly.

"Where are we?" Rose ignored his exasperation and leaned back against the railing to tie her shoe.

"Arcetri," The Doctor informed, what mild irritation he'd felt entirely forgotten in the excitement of the chase, "By the time I dialed in the signal, it was already movin'. No idea where they were hiding initially, but I got us locked on, and this is where the signal stopped."

"Galileo's villa?"

"Yep," The Doctor grinned, "Their plan failed, they're making their move. In person."

"You are entirely too thrilled about this."

"Come on, then" The Doctor turned and headed for the door, not waiting to see if she'd follow, "Off to save the world, that old chestnut." Rose only had one shoe tied, but there was a grin on her face as she shook her head and trotted after him. He was through the door before she even reached the ramp, and as she sauntered out the door several beats later, she found herself staring down the business end of a pike. The Doctor had his hands up, though he was rocking up and down on the balls of his feet ever so slightly, barely containing his energy. Rose sighed and put her hands up.

"Now, lads, have we really got to go through this again?" The Doctor asked in that chipper-but-condescending way.

"Did we seriously just materialize in front of the Swiss Guard?" Rose asked under her breath.

"We followed the signal," The Doctor's gray eyes were fixed on the elder guard. The man met his gaze without flinching, no mean feat by any account. The younger seemed perplexed, his eyes darting furiously between Rose, The Doctor, and his superior. They stood that way for a minute or more, unspeaking, until Rose noticed the older guard's hands began to tremble. The Doctor glanced quickly between the shaking end of the pike and the guard's face.

"Need help with that?" he asked, and dodged left just in time for the sharpened blade to pass harmlessly by his head and bury itself in the side of the TARDIS.

"Doctor!" Rose exclaimed.

"Oi!" The Doctor protested, glancing over his shoulder to his beloved ship and back at her assailant. The elder guard glared at The Doctor with mutinous indignation for a moment while his young protégé stood wide-eyed and frozen, clearly unsure whether he was supposed to follow his commander's lead and shish kebab the girl. Rose could see a number of thoughts and emotions surface in the eyes of the elder guard, but in the face of The Doctor's now grave and fearsome countenance, he turned and fled. The Doctor was quick on his heals, and as Rose made to follow, the young man with the insufficient facial hair finally found himself, moving to block her.

"Listen," Rose said, dropping her hands, her voice low and even, "If you mean to skewer me, I suggest you do it, and do it well. Because if you don't kill me, you better run." The young man was sweating, and she could hear the clatter of two men running through the estate house.

"I – I…" The boy stammered.

"You what? You have to protect the Pope's prisoner? Your friend, there, tried to kill him. He's going to kill him, now if we don't stop him." Rose may not have known what, exactly, was going on, or why, but she'd figured out that much. She stared down the boy in his frustrating indecision, "Well, hurry up then!"

With a visible start, the young guard lowered his pike and stood aside. Rose sprinted forward, launching herself up the stairs two at a time, almost losing her untied shoe. The house was dark, and as she angled left down the corridor toward the commotion, she barked her shin on a decorative stool and stumbled, cursing colorfully as she limped a few steps and finally regained her pace. The sound of struggle was growing nearer, and she could hear The Doctor's familiar voice, though she couldn't make out the words.

Finally, she reached a door near the end of the corridor where the noise originated, and she pushed it open to find The Doctor holding the flailing guard in a headlock. There was a lit candle on the table by the door granting some small measure of light to the scene before her, and the mildly interested look on The Doctor's face as he looked up at her entrance, completely ignoring the pin-wheeling red, blue, and yellow striped arms of his captive, nearly made her snort with laughter. He appeared to have no difficulty holding the guard in check, and Rose diverted her attention to the baffled and disheveled genius sitting upright in the bed across the room.

"Signor Galilei," Rose rushed past The Doctor and went to Galileo's bedside, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, quite," he reassured rather unconvincingly, "I couldn't sleep, I was just reading a bit and – what's going on, here, anyway?"

"Ah, well," Rose hedged glancing back at The Doctor and the now crimson-faced guard a moment, "It seems this man tried to kill you." Galileo stared at her, mouth agape, before shaking his head.

"He's Swiss Guard! One of the Pope's trusted men. Unless… My heavenly father," Galileo crossed himself and rose to his feet. He was dressed in a nightgown not unlike the one Rose had discarded fifteen minutes prior, "The Pope has ordered my execution."

"Well, no, actually," The Doctor chimed in, his voice strained with the effort to still his prisoner, "Something else entirely."

"If not the Pope, then who?" Signor Galilei, now looking steadier and more determined, took a step forward.

"Yes, well, that's what we're trying to find out. Rose, we need something to tie him up with," his intent gray eyes rendered her momentarily frozen, but she caught up quickly and unsnapped a survival bracelet from her wrist and came to his side. "A bracelet? You're going to tie him up with a – oh." Rose had begun unraveling the paracord, and she grinned at him as he arrested his own protest. Within seconds, she had fifty feet of high-test paracord and she was wrapping it snuggly around the guard's wrists.

"Still care to complain about my choice of accessories?"

"What do the rest of them do?"

"Hush, you," she elbowed him, "Where do you want him?"

"On the bed," The Doctor nodded, and they both escorted him to the now vacated mattress, Galileo following all this intently, and dumped their captive unceremoniously on the bed. The Doctor dug into his jacket pocket and produced his sonic screwdriver, fiddling with the settings one or twice before crossing his arms and staring down the guard.

"Now, who are you, and where are you from?" his tone was easy, but firm, and Rose did her best to look as formidable as he did.

"Piss off, ape man."

"Wrong answer," he pointed the sonic at the guard and pressed the button. The man's face immediately began to twitch. He scrunched his eyes shut and sneezed so hard he doubled over, and the weather-worn face and graying beard disappeared a moment to reveal a hairless head with skin that resembled sunbaked red clay. When he looked up, Rose could see yellow eyes with feline-like slit pupils. The guard shook his head, and his disguise was restored.

"Pituari!" The Doctor crowed with vindicated glee, "Oh, I should have known."

"Who are the Pituari?" Rose leaned in and asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"The Pituari, my dear Rose, are a race from the planet Fuulbark in an adjacent arm of your own Milky Way galaxy," The Doctor explained with his smug grin, eyes fixed on the bound alien, "Several clans of Pituari are known throughout the universe for their, shall we say, unscrupulous freelancing. Murder, extortion, kidnapping, arson, you name it and they'll do it for the right price. This one clearly has a flair for the poetic. The question is, who hired him?"

"Clearly not an ape, then," The Pituari smiled, "No matter, my client will see the deed is done. If you are a merciful being, you will kill me, now, before she arrives."

"She?" Rose asked.

"Ah, but this one _is_ an ape. Funny little pet, you've chosen."

"Rose isn't anyone's pet," The Doctor warned, his humor gone, "Tell me who hired you, and why, and maybe I'll let you run along home." Just then the door opened behind them, and Rose, The Doctor, and Signor Galilei all turned to see a drowsy and irate Sister Maria Celeste come charging in.

* * *

**Footnote: **I meant to post this earlier in the day, but Fanfiction was being recalcitrant.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Scheduled update, as promised! I do not own Doctor Who. I hope that covers it for any overzealous attorneys in the audience.

**LadaHathaway:** Ah-thank you. The better known villains will eventually be showing up, but I want to try to throw in some shiny new ones, as well. **Royslady51:** Hahaha, I can't promise to avoid the "big bads" completely, but I will reserve their use until they are needed to advance some plot and/or character development arc. **BelindaDuvessa:** *in my best rap star 'shout-out' voice* WhatWHAT! **Kazster:** Thanks so much! Glad you're enjoying the reading as much as I enjoy the writing! **Guest:** I know, right?! It's just so fun expanding on the whole Nine-Rose "situation."

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?!" Maria Celeste demanded. The Doctor rolled his eyes briefly before turning back to the prisoner and the business at hand.

"Who hired you?" he demanded.

"What are you doing in this house?" the Sister continued, going to her father's side and taking his arm. Galileo tried to calm her, but she was having none of it, "Why've you restrained the guard? I knew you two were trouble. I want you gone, immediately."

Before she even finished speaking, a low whirring noise began to build outside the house. It was drawing closer, and louder, by orders of magnitude. Everyone, save the Pituari mercenary sitting on the bed, looked up and around the room in a futile attempt to discern the source of the sound. Even the most venerated Sister stilled her tongue as the noise grew to nearly deafening levels. It was then, with The Doctor and Rose momentarily distracted, that the Pituari sprang from the bed and made a run for it.

"Doctor!" Rose shouted above the din, grabbing his elbow and sprinting for the door and the darkened corridor beyond. He was quick on the uptake, and, after a moment, he took her hand firmly in his own, and Rose was following him, trusting his vision in the dark far more than she trusted her own. For his own part, their prisoner was incapable of running all that quickly with his hands bound behind his back. All the same, he led them on a merry chase past the sunroom, down through the kitchens, and out the back door leading to the gardens.

They exited into the chill night air, breathing heavily and inhaling the scent of budding trees and freshly turned earth. Ahead of them, the Pituari was running unsteadily toward what was clearly the source of the noise. A massive, squareish ship had landed on the tilled fields, its engines now shutting down and support struts digging deep into the soil. One by one, flood lights flared to life along the exterior, illuminating the fields and the chipping yellow paint that covered the hull. The alien mercenary was running toward it, stumbling over the loose mounds of soil, and, thinking quickly, Rose leaned sideways, took off her untied shoe, drew back and let it fly.

The Doctor watched, stunned and amused, as the pink sneaker arced high in the harsh light and came down on the alien's right ear with a soft 'thump.' With his already erratic flight, it didn't take much to throw the Pituari off his balance. The two watched as he wobbled heavily to the left, and, unable to recover, his legs gave out under him and he collapsed onto his face, the sneaker landing limply beside him.

"Ha, ha!" Rose threw her fists in the air, and The Doctor let out a whoop, wrapping his arms around her and swinging her in a circle before setting her down.

"Fantastic!" he beamed, taking her hand, "Come on, then, let's see what you've caught." Together, they sprinted across the neatly tilled rows until they came to the alien, squirming and sputtering in the dirt. The Doctor reached down, grabbed the mercenary by his frilly white collar, and hauled him up into a kneeling position.

"All that runnin', and for what?" The Doctor grinned, sweeping some of the soil off his captive's striped uniform, "Takin' down by an 'ape.'"

"Ah-thank you," Rose nodded, standing over the now undisguised Pituari with her arms crossed.

"No matter," The Pituari croaked, then spit out a glob of soil, "She is here, and the job will be done." As if on cue, the ship emitted a voluble hiss as the air lock was unsealed and two interlocking doors slid apart. Initially, the lit interior of the ship blinded them, but the Time Lord held fast to the mercenary's collar. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Rose could make out a rather short humanoid figure flanked by a half dozen armed clockwork androids, disturbingly similar to the one's she and Mickey had encountered on the ship that had housed portals into Madame de Pompadour's life.

The stout figure exited the craft, followed by its mechanical entourage. Rose and The Doctor stood fast, the Pituari kneeling between them. As the landing party approached, Rose struggled to see the leader's face, but the powerful backlighting hampered her efforts. Finally, the group stopped ten feet in front of them, and the diminutive alien spoke.

"Time agents?" asked a distinctly feminine but commanding voice.

"Not quite. Just a couple of freelancers," Rose offered.

"Yes, well, whatever you are," the figure stepped nearer, and Rose could finally see a distinctly fox-like face covered in sleek silver fur, "You are interfering in the lawful operations of the Kithelian Gourmet Corporation. I must insist that you cease all disruptive actions."

"Afraid I can't do that," The Doctor gave her a withering, sardonic grin.

"Gourmet?" Rose asked. The Doctor glanced at his companion, his brow knit, before looking back at the visitor.

"What she said. What's this 'gourmet' business?"

"Kithelian Gourmet Corp. is the leading supplier of high-end hors d'oerves and exotic delicacies to the most discerning catering companies in the Unified Systems." The alien said with all due dignity. Despite standing no higher than Rose's navel, the alien maintained a commanding presence.

"So," Rose attempted to clarify, "You want to – harvest – _people_?"

"My dear girl, we've been harvesting this planet for centuries."

"My planet," Rose corrected, sternly, "You've been harvesting _my_ planet." The fox-like alien tilted its head at her.

"Why, yes, I suppose so, but you are unlike those of your species we have encountered."

"We're not from around here," The Doctor offered, "But I can assure you, Rose is very much human."

"And you?"

"Irrelevant. All you need know is that this planet, and the advancement of its inhabitants, is under my protection."

"Oh?" she asked, and Rose could hear a smile in her voice, "By what authority?"

"Article 718 of the Shadow Proclamation."

"Article 718 concerns the development of banana groves on non-native worlds."

"Oh, well, worth a try." The Doctor smiled, shrugging.

"Why are you doing this?" Rose cut in, her patience wearing thin, "Why Signor Galilee? Does intelligence make him more of a – delicacy – or something?"

"Don't be so simple," the alien scoffed, "Our consumers are highly concerned with the treatment of our food sources. Signor Galilee, as you called him, will play a key role in the advancement of the human species. Should the level of sentience among the population rise any further, our customers will no longer feel comfortable purchasing our stock."

"So, you want to keep us dumb enough to remain morally edible, is that it?" Rose was appalled.

"I can't let you do this," The Doctor stated, and his tone brooked no opposition.

"It is my job to maintain the integrity of the supply chain; to keep the company in the black; and as you have no weapons, I fail to see how you intend to stop me. Destroy the mercenary, we search the estate," she addressed the last to her mechanized accomplices, and the clockwork androids raised their weapons and aimed for the kneeling Pituari.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" The Doctor shouted, but in a burst of blue light and incredible heat, the mercenary slumped forward in the soil and stilled. Rose stared at the creature, mouth agape, and barely noticed The Doctor grabbing her arm and pulling her close to his side.

"Do not interfere," the fox-like woman commanded as the androids marched past them, each emitting that insufferable ticking sound, toward the estate house, "And we will have no reason to destroy you." Rose watched, stunned, as the alien walked past.

"What do we do?" she breathed once the assassination squad was far enough away.

"I don't know," The Doctor replied, honestly

* * *

Sister Maria Celeste had gotten her father back into bed and was sitting beside him, stroking the back of his hand and chastising him to get some sleep. The older man's interest and curiosity was consumed with the goings-on outside, and on more than one occasion she'd had to forcefully push him back down when he'd made an attempt to rise. In the midst of it all, her own mind was consumed with worry, unsure what was going on and whether to trust the two strangers who'd so upturned their otherwise peaceful and solitary world. So, she'd stayed with her aged father, worried for the stress it put on him, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

When Maria heard steady, unhurried footsteps in the hall, she dared hope for the best; that whoever had been behind this whole affair was dealt with, and that someone was coming to let them know they were safe. When she realized the footsteps she heard were many more than the three people who'd fled the room, her heart sank and she crossed herself. She didn't argue this time as Galileo sat upright in bed, instead gripping his hand firmly in both of hers and watching the door with him in stark silence. When the door was pushed gradually open, her heart nearly stopped entirely.

"My heavenly father," Maria Celeste breathed, rising from the bed and immediately falling to her knees. She clasped her hands together, and began reciting every prayer she could remember. The short creature with the silver fur and sharp, almost-canine features stepped into the room without a word, followed by six virtually identical beings made of metal and gears and glass. They walked upright on two legs, like men, but lacked eyes, mouths, and any other distinguishing feature. They were ticking, the lack of synchronicity maddening, and the Sister was both enraptured and terrified by the noise. The stout, furry being and its entourage stopped maybe five feet in front of where the Sister knelt, and keen brown eyes regarded her dismissively before turning attention to Signor Galilei.

"This is the one," that commanding female voice announced, "Unit 3, make it quick. We must depart." Maria Celeste and her father both watched as the automaton immediately to the fox-woman's left stepped forward, gears whirring, and raised its hands, pointing some indiscernible contraption at the helpless genius. Maria Celeste didn't know, consciously, what to make of it, but leapt to her feet on instinct.

"Don't you da-" were the only words she got out just as a blinding blue light radiated from the weapon and she felt an instant of indescribable heat radiate through every cell of her body, followed by nothing. Galileo watched, in agony, as his beloved Virginia slumped to the floor. He threw the covers off and climbed out of bed, falling on his knees next to his daughter's lifeless body. When she did not respond to his frantic pleas and gentle shaking, he looked up at the interlopers.

"What have I done?" he shouted, "What have I done to deserve this? Have my sins been so great?" Instead of a response, the android adjusted its posture and aim, and Galileo held his breath.

With a great clatter, the clockwork android was thrown aside, driven by the length of a Pike powered by teen fury. The young Swiss Guardsman let out a cry, weak but genuine, as he plowed through the room, skewering the automaton to the far wall. It twitched and whirred, gears grinding futilely against the iron head until they began to smoke and slow to a stop. Only after its head drooped forward and its arms fell to its sides did the teen yank the pike free and turn to face the remaining enemies as the mechanized assassin slumped to the floor with a thud.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Another bonus posting! Because I'm feeling charitable and inspired. Also, blah, blah, blah, don't own Doctor Who, blah, blah, blah.

**Aminegrlsteph:** I hope so. I've limited experience with tension and action scenes. Hoping to get some practice. Which, I suppose, means you're all my little lab rats. **Jeni27:** *evil cackle* **Royslady51:** Biscuits, or there will be no shaking hands, playing dead, or fetch. **Katydidtoo: **Yay, for excuses! My favorite is "arrested for aiding and abetting a renegade Time Lord." It would be worth the heinous orange jumpsuit. **Mauve Guest:** You've been busy today! But I suppose it is more enjoyable to hold off and read things all in one go. If I hadn't been introduced to the _Outlander_ series when there were already 5 books out I'd have rioted in the streets after _Dragonfly In Amber_. Thank you so much for hanging in and reviewing!

* * *

Rose glanced up at the pike still stuck in the side of the TARDIS as The Doctor frantically unlocked the door. He'd not informed her what his plan was, assuming there was a plan, but she'd run with him, anyway. She had always stood by The Doctor; without reason, without a plan, without any guarantee of survival. She'd done insane, dangerous things to make sure she was always there for him. Only, as a young girl, she'd often felt like she was merely following him, being carried along in his tumultuous wake and hanging on for dear life. This was especially true after his regeneration. While he'd still been, unquestionably, The Doctor, his personality had swung so drastically for the manic that she'd frequently found herself feeling overwhelmed and superfluous.

Before the change, although she'd been naïve and wildly out of her element, her first Doctor had done his even best to bring her up to his level, to push her and challenge her and help her grow, even as she was carried along a stream of events she frequently had no control over. Now, as the TARDIS door swung open and she followed The Doctor inside, she felt every inch as savvy and capable as the brilliant Time Lord. That old, unquestioned feeling of complete trust and steadfast faith had returned in force. He would never forget her, never leave her behind, and as ominous as his darkness and fury could be, she could never fear him. Whatever his plan, or lack thereof, she couldn't doubt him if she tried.

"So, what's the plan, then? How do we save the human race from becoming Ape Cakes?"

"First thing's first" The Doctor said, taking the Sonic Screwdriver and tossing it to her as he took to the controls, "Setting 435, it won't disable the androids, being clockwork and all, but it will interfere with their communication. It's the only part of them that uses a circuit." Rose flipped quickly through the settings.

"Right, then what?"

"We find our little Kithelian friend and see what happens," The Doctor was grinning maniacally as he took up the rubber mallet and gave the console a couple good, firm whacks. The TARDIS's rotor whirred into gear, and, having a thought, Rose made a dash for the corridor.

"Rose! Rose, where are you – Oh, sod it," he was forced to return his attention back to his ship as her flight grew slightly erratic. He mumbled a number of uncharitable things about flighty companions and the attention span of hominids as he fought to keep the TARDIS on track. Minutes later, just as he'd zeroed in on the minute energy generated by the androids, Rose came sauntering in with two large canvas-bound books in her arms. The Doctor arched an eyebrow at her.

"Rose, I think you've taken 'throw the book at them' a bit too literally." In response, she grinned and tossed him one of the volumes, and he took his hands off the controls to catch it just as the TARDIS began her materialization cycle. Frowning in concentration, he read the cover and looked up at his companion, who was grinning rather smugly at him. He couldn't help smiling back at her.

"Luckily, you have several copies," she headed for the door without a backward glance, "Come on, then. Let's go make a mess of history." The Doctor took one last look at the book, shook his head, and trotted after the mad little Earthling with a 72nd Century copy of _Two New Sciences_ tucked under his arm.

* * *

He was only sixteen, drafted into the Swiss Guard from a family that had once been wealthy and respected but had fallen into decay. Breathing heavily, he faced down the whirring, ticking mechanical men and their diminutive furry master. He was terrified, heart pounding furiously and sweating heavily under the maddeningly itchy frill collar. Five androids remained, and no way to take them all on with only his pike and sword, but as he looked down at Signor Galilei, still knelt by the Sister's body, he tightened his grip on his weapon and fixed his gaze on the little fox-like creature.

The Kithelian opened her mouth to command her automotons to dispatch with the boy when a strange pulsing, whirring sound began to rise, quickly tuning out the robots' ticking. A wind with no apparent source picked up, and a large blue box slowly began to appear in front of their eyes, the pulsing light at its apex acting as a beacon, though of hope or warning the individual occupants of that modest bedroom couldn't possibly guess. All eyes were on the TARDIS as it came to rest, solid and imposing, a lone pike still sticking oddly out to the side. When the door swung open, all were surprised to see the woman with the dark, dirty blonde hair coiled in a messy bun, followed immediately by the tall man in the leather coat.

"Sorry to crash the party," Rose opened, "Could we have a word?"

"As you've neglected yet again to bring any weapons, I fail to see the purpose," the Kithelian replied, perfectly calm and collected.

"Ah, see, there's where you're wrong," The Doctor held up the book in his hands, and Rose did the same.

"Books?" the Kithelian acknowledged, eyes squinting in mirth, "That's very poetic, but quite harmless I'm afraid. Androids don't get paper cuts."

"Well, you _say_ that, but here you are assassinatin' an old man over a book," The Doctor pointed out, and, despite knowing exactly what it said, he made a point of tilting the spine toward himself and reading it off, "_Discourses and Mathematical Demonstrations Relating to Two New Sciences_."

"Signor Galilei," Rose addressed, her voice soft and kind, heart aching for the old man crumpled on the floor beside his murdered daughter, "Your book, the one you've only begun to think of writing, it changes human history. More than five millennia in the future, it's still in print." She held up the book for his benefit before turning to the Kithelian, "And she's come her to stop you. To keep humanity in the dark."

"And who – who are you?" the deflated genius asked, hesitantly.

"Friends," The Doctor smiled kindly at him, gray eyes keen and genuine in their sympathy.

"Time Lord," the Kithelian corrected, "and whatever she is. Don't think I didn't recognize your ship. Magnificent, if I may say so, but telling. You have rules, ancient and binding. If you mean to make believe you will thwart me by publishing the book regardless of this man's fate, you've failed. Your people would never allow such interference."

"What would you know of my people?" The Doctor had turned, in an instant, dark and menacing, "Just as we forbid interference by our own, we forbid it by others. I'm just here to correct history. Besides," The Doctor's mood turned gleeful and irreverent as quickly as it had soured, "Not much for rules, me. Been brought up on charges before. Slap on the wrist, nothin' I can't talk my way out of."

"You're bluffing," the Kithelian insisted, though after a doubtful pause.

"Are we?" Rose asked, "I'm just a human. Their rules mean even less to me. I do – pretty much whatever the hell I want. With this ship, I'm like a ten-year-old with potato gun. You can't stop both of us. I promise you, one way or another, this work will see the light of day."

"Two birds, five stones," she nodded her sleekly furred head to her mechanized henchmen, "I like my odds."

"Rose," The Doctor nodded, and his brilliant companion drew the Sonic Screwdriver, aimed, and pressed the button. Confused, the Kithelian's eyes darted around. Nothing seemed to happen, and she gave them what likely passed for a smile among her kind.

"Shoot them both," she commanded, calmly. When nothing happened, she grew agitated, "Fire on them! Now!"

"Problem with Clockwork Droids is, they can't think for themselves." The Doctor lectured, crossing his arms over his chest, still gripping the book in one hand, "They're useless without immediate commands."

"You can't stand there forever," the Kithelian's cool, commanding demeanor was faltering.

"Don't need to," The Doctor assured, "We can just step back in my ship, scamper off to Holland, and submit the manuscript. You won't get through those doors, not with a legion of your little pets. You've been beat. Go home. Leave this planet for good, and write it off as a loss. Cost of doin' business." The Kithelian stared at him with those intelligent brown eyes, frustration sweeping off her in waves.

"We won't be the last," she warned, "There will be others, others who will seek to harvest this world. Who won't bother to practice such careful stewardship, who will bleed it dry."

"And I will be here to stop them," The Doctor assured, "I've all the time in the universe." Everyone; Rose, The Doctor, the young Guardsman, the Kithelian, Galileo; remained still for several moments. Finally, the stout little alien closed its eyes and sighed.

"Release my androids. We shall withdraw," she acquiesced, grudgingly.

"Wise move," The Doctor nodded, gratitude washing over him that their gambit had worked, "Rose." Obliging, Rose took her finger off the button, and raised the Sonic Screwdriver slightly. She kept her eyes trained on the alien as it turned toward the door and commanded the droids to follow. Just before exiting into the hallway, the Kithelian turned and regarded the tall, stern Time Lord.

"Who are you?" she asked, simply.

"I'm The Doctor."

"And I'm Rose. Not that anyone asked."

"Well played, Doctor," she nodded, ignoring Rose's interjection, and left the room with her clockwork henchmen. No one in the room moved or spoke until they could no longer hear footsteps. Rose stirred first, crossing to crouch down by Galileo's side.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "She loved you dearly." The old man looked up at her, eyes the same brown as his daughter's welling with tears.

"Yes, and I was too much a busy, single-minded old fool to notice."

"Can we help?" Rose asked, not knowing what else to say in response, "Should we lay her on the bed?" The old man appeared to have aged a decade in the last hour. Frail and hunched, he nodded weakly. Rose looked up, and The Doctor was already standing there. He knelt beside Rose and helped her turn Virgina onto her back. For what little it was worth, the Sister's face looked peaceful and content. The young Swiss Guardsman came to their side, and the three worked in unison to lift the young woman carefully onto the bed as Signor Galilei rose to his feet and watched. Once the grim deed was done, The Doctor turned to Galileo, and lay his hands steadily on the genius's shoulders.

"Give it time," was all The Doctor could say. As he stepped away, Rose took his place, embracing Signor Galilei and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He was smiling, somberly as she pulled back.

"Thank you. Thank you, both." Galileo said, marshaling his strength with a deep breath.

"You. Take care of him, huh?" The Doctor addressed the teen guard, who nodded determinedly. "That's a lad." He picked up the books that had been discarded on the floor and pushed open the door to the TARDIS. He glanced back at his companion, still holding onto the old man's shoulders. No matter the outcome, seeing her strength and compassion filled him with hope. The feeling was unfamiliar, and a little uncomfortable, but not unwelcome.

"Come, Rose. We need to leave," he said, softly. With one last hug, Rose turned and followed her Time Lord, a soft, wistful smile on her lips. Inside, The Doctor set the copies of Galileo's magnum opus on the jump seat as he took to the controls. Rose followed, settling herself on the seat next to the books and propping her feet up on the console. She was wiped out, physically and emotionally, and she watched absently as The Doctor worked in silence. Stroking the cover of Signor Galilei's book, her gaze suddenly focused.

"What happens, now?" she asked. The Doctor had just finished steering the TARDIS into the Time Vortex. He paused and leaned against the console with one hip, arms crossed over his chest.

"Whatever you like," he shrugged.

"No," Rose shook her head, "Galileo. What happens to him?"

"Ah," The Doctor said, coming around to face her and propping himself on the console just next to her feet, "He goes on to organize and compile the majority of his life's research. His eyesight slowly diminishes; it'll be gone by the time he finds a publisher in Holland willing to print it in 1638. He passes in 1642. Eventually, he and his daughter are interred together in the Basilica of Santa Croce."

"And Maria Celeste," Rose said, cautiously, "I know you said she died before him, anyway, but did we…"

"No," The Doctor shook his head firmly, "April 2, 1634. This is the day she died. Dysentery, the records say, but its not like they could have told the authorities anything else. It's a common malady for the time, and as plausible an explanation as any." Rose nodded, chewing her lip, and The Doctor watched her, wondering fiercely what was going through her mind. When her dark hazel eyes met his, he swallowed involuntarily.

"I wish we could show him," she said, and when The Doctor made no sign of understanding her, she continued, "That he was right. About the sun and the Earth." She smiled ruefully to herself, but when The Doctor's eyes grew bright and he began to smile, she tilted her head in question.

"Maybe we can."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Final Chapter! For _this_ episode. It's… mostly fluff. But good fluff! With a little hint that The Doctor knows Neil deGrasse Tyson. I'm sure they sit around on Friday nights drinking Hypervodkas and downgrading planets. Come back Thursday for Episode III:

**Doctor Who: Parallax – Shake It Out **_A stopover in London to restock the pantry goes thoroughly to pot when Rose is forced to intervene in the life of a very familiar medical resident. Soon, Rose and The Doctor are separated, and she's fighting for her life alongside a close friend who hasn't met her, yet. _

**Believer29:** Thank you so much for dropping a line! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and just thrilled you feel I'm staying on track with the characters. Nine and Rose are perfect, they just are, and while I so desperately just wanted to have them adventuring again (and therefore had no choice but to swerve drastically from the Canon), I didn't want to change them (beyond the normal, natural evolution that characters go through). I totally relate to your situation, too, being several years out from last writing on here. I used to have a couple fics posted for Harry Potter and The Mummy. And they were pretty amateur. So they're not there, anymore. :D So, here's to long hiatuses, and returns, and Nine getting a chance to keep his Rose! **TK:** And busy kicking off the next episode. :D Thanks so much for hanging in. Nine and Rose really are a force of nature when they work together. Fun to write and hopefully equally fun to read! **Cori:** But not Lynda sweet, let's make that clear. I didn't like Lynda much… Not sure why… **Mauve Guest:** I loved that about him, too. He struck a perfect balance between making sure she stood on her own two feet and learned to be quick and resourceful and making sure nothing exploded in the process. Unless he wanted it exploded. In which case, he embraced the tradition of BYOB (Bring Your Own Bomb).

* * *

Several days after his attempted assassination, and his daughter's death, Galileo Galilei sat at a modest wood table on the back patio of the estate house, partaking in a glass of red as the sun slowly set over the rolling hills. Sister Maria Celeste had been laid to rest earlier that day, and he'd been graciously permitted by Pope Urban VIII to attend the service in Florence. Now, returned to his hospitable confinement, he sat in contemplation as he watched the light slowly fade from the sky. He hardly noticed the chill, nor the influx of gnats and mosquitoes. Instead he reminisced over his dear Virginia and wondered what on Earth he was meant to do with her gone.

For all that his mind wandered, Signor Galilei did not miss, for a second, the strange and familiar whirring sound that slowly grew in intensity. Immediately sitting upright and tabling his wine glass, Galileo, pushed himself laboriously to his feet, knees aching in protest, and turned to see the faint outline of a large blue box gradually solidifying on the far side of stone patio. Eyes open wide and lips parted slightly in wonder, he walked closer, stopping some ten feet away as the TARDIS fully materialized and her engines wound down. Galileo held his breath the scant few moments it took for the door to open.

The man who called himself The Doctor stepped out, first. With failing eyes in the evening light, Signor Galilei could still make out the unconventional but genuine smile of the 'Time Lord.' As he cleared the entryway, his lady Rose followed. They were dressed just as they'd been when they'd left three nights prior; he, dark from head to toe in that worn leather jacket and bizarrely straight-legged pants, she in her funny pink shoes, scandalously form-fitting trousers with the dozen pockets, and ¾ sleeve button-up blouse. No stranger, nor more suited, a pair he'd ever seen.

"Good evening," Galileo greeted, unsure what else to say, "Is there – a problem?" He would normally be far more congenial to visitors, but in his admittedly limited experience, these two tended to herald trouble.

"No," The Doctor assured, grinning wide, "We came to check in, is all. See how you are."

"Oh," Galileo said, eyebrows raised slightly.

"He's stalling," The woman, hair still wound up in a messy bun, turned about to survey her surroundings, "Not good at small talk, him. Blimey!" Noticing the pike still stuck in the side of the TARDIS, Rose quickly stepped up and wrenched the offending weapon from the wooden box with a cringe. "Sorry old girl," she murmured, tossing the pike aside and laying her hand over the split in the wood. Beneath her fingers, the ship's exterior grew warm, and as it started to glow gold she took her hand away.

"Heals herself," The Doctor pointed out, unnecessarily, just over her shoulder. As he spoke, the golden glow coalesced into a solid patch of blue-painted wood, and Rose could no longer tell that an iron blade had been buried some seven or eight inches into the side of the ship.

"Tha's brilliant," Rose smiled before returning her attention to the task at hand. "Sorry," she smiled at the weary old genius, "maintenance. Where were we?"

"Stalling?" Galileo offered.

"Right," Rose beamed, "I suppose you've already guessed we're not _really_ from around here."

"That seems a safe assumption, yes," Galileo allowed.

"Yes, well, this blue box, here, she travels in space. That's how we appeared in your bedroom the other night... And disappeared... And reappeared here."

"How remarkable," for once, the scientist focused his attention on the blue box, instead of the flattering figure of the young woman in the form-fitting clothes.

"Yes," The Doctor agreed, heartily, "And we'd like to offer you something in the way of a gift, if you'll have it."

"What, good Signor Doctor, would that be?" Galileo asked, and the Time Lord smiled wide in answer.

* * *

"Here, put these on," The Doctor handed what appeared to be a set of heavily tinted, old-fashioned aviator goggles to Rose and Signor Galilei. The Doctor had already strapped his on, the heavy lenses resting atop his head, ready to be pulled down over his eyes when needed. Rose took them, curious, before donning them in much the same manor. She still didn't know quite what The Doctor was up to, but she had an idea, and thought it best to feign knowledge for their honored passenger's benefit.

The man in question was sitting in the jump seat, having needed to rest a moment after seeing the vastness of the TARDIS's interior. Rose hadn't had the heart to point out that the control room was only a fraction of the ship's total size. After spending a good deal of time piloting the ship to exactly the right position, The Doctor finally seemed satisfied with their location. Rose mused to herself how he never took that much care on her trips, but realized it probably wouldn't do to go scaring the pants off the 17th Century inventor by accidentally landing them in the middle of Rio de Janeiro during Carnival

With giddy energy and a gleam in his eyes, The Doctor led them both to the doors of the TARIDS. Rose walked with Galileo, her arm tucked around his, biting her lower lip in anticipation. She thought she knew what he was up to. She'd gone on field trip to the Royal Observatory when she was in school, and while it had bored her to tears at the time, she found herself shivering in anticipation of seeing it, now. Everything was more interesting with The Doctor, after all, and she did so enjoy being right, even if only to herself. She was convinced the R.O. was perfect, brilliant, even. While it certainly didn't house the most powerful refracting telescope available, it would certainly suit their needs and provide a setting rustic enough to hopefully set Signor Galilei at ease.

When they reached the doors, they lowered the goggles over their eyes as instructed, and Rose stifled a snicker at The Doctor's appearance. As he laid his hands upon both door handles, he turned his head at the last minute to look at her over his shoulder. Rose winked at him, unsure if he could see it through the heavy tint, a confident smile on her lips. She steadied herself, ready to reassure Signor Galilei or help take his weight should he faint. When both doors swung open, she took a second to process what she was seeing. Then, her mouth dropped open and she froze in place.

From their vantage point somewhere above the plane of the Solar System, Rose could see the sun, impossibly massive and brighter than anything she'd ever witnessed. The necessity of the goggles became suddenly very apparent, and as her eyes adjusted, she could just start to discern motion in the dark space beyond their yellow star. Carefully, she stepped forward, Signor Galilei walking cautiously beside her, to take The Doctor's hand and set foot on the narrow ledge just outside the TARDIS doors. Her heart was in her throat, looking down at the darkness just beyond the toes of her shoes, and she gripped The Doctor's hand more tightly.

"S'all right, I won't let you go," he reassured softly in her ear before speaking to their guest, "Signor Galilai, we are parked far above the sun and the eight planets that surround her."

"Nine," Rose corrected, distractedly.

"I've a friend I'd like you to meet," he muttered before continuing, "Give your eyes a moment to adjust, then you'll notice several small moving objects. Tiny, really, you'll have to look close, and the third one out, the one passing just underneath our position, that's your world. That's the Earth."

"It moves," Galileo breathed, a strained but awe-filled laugh escaping him.

"Yes, you were right all along. The Earth, as well as her sister planets, all orbit the sun.

"And different speeds," the old scientist was gaining some confidence, pointing to where Mercury and Venus swung around the far side of the sun, clearly racing past the Earth's relative position.

"Indeed," The Doctor beamed, "Each planet moves a little slower the further it is from the sun."

"Remarkable!" Galileo was grinning broadly, patting Rose's hand where it rested on his arm.

"I'll say," was all she could manage. Her attention was fixed completely on the rhythmic, circular ballet of the worlds. She'd seen much in her travels, both with the Doctor and without, but at this moment, she was well and truly floored. A trembling smile grew on her lips until it could grow no further, and in a moment of complete happiness and complete disbelief, she began laughing.

The Doctor had been watching her from the first moment he'd opened the doors, and while he felt even more self-satisfied than he'd dared hope, he hadn't anticipated just how deeply fulfilling her unabashed awe and wonder would be. He wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been this. As her lips curled into that genuine, mind-melting smile and her laughter slowly built to crescendo, The Doctor allowed himself to look upon the timely waltz of celestial bodies and witness the grace and power of the universe as if he'd lived underground his whole life. For the first time in an achingly long time; all that is, all that was, and all thought could be, lay bare before him, and he didn't shy away.

* * *

"How did you do that?" Rose finally asked, looking up at The Doctor. They'd taken Galileo Galilei safely home, and watched as he'd gone marching inside his house on a mission to find all his notes that very night and get started on his book. Since then, Rose had been sitting on the jump seat for a solid fifteen minutes, her right knee pulled up to her chest and her elbow resting upon it, biting her thumbnail while she stared at some indeterminate point on the TARDIS's console.

"Impressed?" he gave her his best self-important grin, but behind it, the look in his eyes was hopeful and just the tiniest bit vulnerable. The ego-deflating retort that had sprung first to her mind withered away. Instead, she lowered her forehead to her knee a moment, smiling secretly to herself, before looking back up at him all cheer and irreverence.

"Mad, that was. Never seen anything like it. And, mind you, I've been to Woman Wept." Then, Rose considered a moment, "Assuming that exists, here."

"Ah, maybe," The Doctor allowed, eyes darting around surreptitiously and suddenly fiddling with the controls once more. Rose stood up from the seat and walked over to stand next to him and look past his shoulder to the indecipherable circles and angles streaming by on the monitor.

"I don't mind going back," she grinned at him, "Just not right now, show off. I'm _knackered_." Her last statement was punctuated by a massive yawn.

"Right, sleep," The Doctor acknowledged, settling his ship back into the Time Vortex and, with one last glance at the monitor, leaning a hip against the cracked porcelain frame of the console and crossing his arms. "Thank you," he said, suddenly and wholly without thought.

"For what?" Rose asked, her brow creased over her drowsy hazel eyes. The Doctor's mind went into a bit of a panic mode.

"Thinking of that," he finally said, "Of giving him one last hurrah. Showing him he was right." There had been at least half a dozen other things he'd wanted to say; _for making me laugh_, _for standing by me_, f_or going along with my whims so readily_, _for saying 'yes'_, _for everything_.

"Can't take all the credit," she laughed, "I'd no idea the TARDIS could do that. Thought you were taking us to an observatory or something." She paused a moment, her expression turning soft and just a bit sad, "I'd've done it for my dad," she said softly, then, with forced self-effacement "Did something much stupider instead."

"Oh, I find that hard to believe," The Doctor tried his best to inject some levity, and was rewarded with dark hazel eyes and a sideways grin.

"Yeah, well, ya shouldn't. God, I was only nineteen and I was just – just so foolish." The Doctor thought to interrupt, change the direction of the conversation, but for all his dislike of the complicated emotions and petty dramas of humanity, the 'domestics,' he was keen enough to know there was something she needed to say, and he stilled his tongue.

"My own da, he died when I was a baby, yeah?" she tried to be as matter-of-fact as possible, and at The Doctor's subtle nod, she continued, "hit by a car. My mum had told me the story, told me how clever and selfless he was. I adored 'im, without ever having met 'im."

Anyway, one day The Doctor agreed to take me to see him. He'd died alone, you know? In the middle of the street outside their flat. I wanted to be there for 'im. Only – only I couldn't. I ran, and I hid, and I begged The Doctor for a second chance. He explained to me how dangerous it was, he _did_, but when the car came around that corner, I panicked. I thought 'I can fix it. I can stop it.' I ran out, in front of the first pair of us who'd been standin' there, and I pushed my da' out of the way. Saved 'im. Saved 'im and ruined everything."

Thus far, she'd kept it together, but The Doctor could see the tears welling in her eyes. He wanted so badly to reach out, to sooth her, to make it stop, but he also saw her small hands clenched at her sides, the square set of her shoulders, and the determination etched on her face. She wasn't ready to give in, yet. Not ready to crack. One touch would breech the dam, and he wouldn't do that to her. He kept his arms firmly crossed, and let her make her stand.

"I'm sure you know what can happen in a situation like that," she said, swallowing hard and pressing on, "And it did. These creatures showed up. Reapers, he later called them. There to 'cleanse the wound.' He tried to stop it, almost found a way, too. But, in the end, it failed. My da – mum was right, 'bout him bein' clever – he figured out what needed doin', an' he did it." The Doctor, thankfully, knew exactly what she meant.

"Did you," he began, faltering, "Were you able…" He stopped as Rose nodded her head.

"Yeah," she half-smiled, "Yeah, I was there for 'im. But, the worst part – the worst part is I never apologized to The Doctor. I mean, for mucking it up so badly, I did, but not for the rest. Not for the fight we 'ad, for the things I said. God, I acted so selfish, so manipulative, and after it was over I was so ashamed I couldn't bear to bring it up. I always thought, someday I'd do. Someday I'd get the courage, and then – it was too late." The last was spoken as barely a whisper, and The Doctor saw the levy give. As she choked back a sob, he reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms about her head and shoulders as she hid her face and fell apart, clinging to the lapels of his jacket.

"He knew, Rose," The Doctor said, his voice steady and certain, "If he's done even a fraction the stupid things I've done in my life, and given the similarities I'm not half certain he has, he knew." For several minutes, she didn't answer, just came apart in his arms, head tucked under his chin. Finally, the tempest abated, and the wracking sobs became mere sniffles. Slowly, he could feel her regaining her composure, her strength, and he loosened his arms more reluctantly than he'd ever admit.

"You?" she began, smiling weakly and standing upright as she hastily wiped at the mascara tracks on her cheeks, the only makeup to speak of that she wore, "Doing stupid things?"

"Well, it's a fine line between stupid and clever," he admitted, "But for starters, stealing a TARDIS from government salvage likely kicked the whole mess off." Rose pulled back a bit to look up at him, questioning.

"You stole the TARDIS?" she asked, her smile slowly becoming less forced.

"Ah, well, I prefer _borrowed_… Indefinitely." He hedged. Rose's eyes darted over his face, searching for any sign that he was putting her on. When she realized he was being perfectly plain, she leaned back against the console and started chuckling. Quickly, it grew into a proper laugh, and The Doctor found himself helping her over to the jump seat when she became unable to stand she was laughing so hard. Despite his very strong suspicions that she was laughing at him, and that he'd soon find out why, he felt only a massive relief at her restored mood.

"Now, what's so funny about grand theft Time Machine?" The Doctor asked once she began to compose herself. She almost broke into another peel of laughter, but managed to choke it off.

"You – you." she began, pointing, and when she realized she'd be unable to explain herself completely, she cut to the heart of her discomposure, quoting a bumper sticker she'd once seen on a rusted-out VW Rabbit "Drive it like you stole it." With that, she fell over onto the seat hooting with laughter.

"You know, those doors _will _open in the Vortex and the air pocket only extends so far."

* * *

**Footnote:**

"I feel something so right

By doing the wrong thing

And I feel something so wrong

By doing the right thing

I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie

Everything that kills me makes me feel alive"

-One Republic: Counting Stars


End file.
